Tag Archives: National Trevor

Do you remember when you first encountered Sandi Toksvig? My friend the Prince of Pontardulais and I used to watch ITV’s No. 73 when we were students, where Sandi’s (or rather Ethel’s) “daring, dazzling, death-defyingly dull, devastatingly dangerous, delectable, delicatestible, divinely decadent” Sandwich Quiz was a vital ingredient of our Saturday morning sobering up routine. I always thought she’d go on to do good things. And, blow me down, she has.

Why National Trevor? Well, I suppose it’s as close to being called a National Treasure as is decent for a self-penned epithet without becoming big-headed about it; although, apparently, it’s what her neighbour misheard one day. I’ve rarely seen the Derngate auditorium so packed, which does indeed confirm her status as a NT. But Sandi’s new touring show is all about how we’re all National Trevors in our own way; and you get a badge if you can prove it.

You couldn’t quite classify this as a stand-up comedy show. There’s light-hearted cosy chat; a comfy chair – perhaps one generation more modern than Ronnie Corbett’s, but providing the same purpose – at the back of the stage, emphasises that aspect of the evening. There are also considerable elements of comedy lecture; the lectern at the front of the stage gives us that clue. It is, of course, de rigueur to have a PowerPoint presentation to accompany one’s lecture, but sensibly she’s broken it down into not too many slides. I was almost tempted to ask for a hard copy at the end of the evening.

It was Mrs Chrisparkle who instantly noticed that her vocal tics and delivery are almost identical to those of Michael McIntyre – although she doesn’t skip about the stage like him. Who’s imitating who? With the greatest respect to Ms Toksvig, she’s (quite considerably) the older of the two, so I can only assume he’s paying tribute to her in his own way. It was also when she told an anecdote about her old friend Alan Coren, that I realised her vocal style has also influenced David Mitchell (Alan Coren’s son-in-law). Or at least they are very similar. But I digress.

She’s a warm and kind person on stage – and you get the feeling that she’d be awfully fun to know in real life. She’s extremely inclusive, welcomes audience participation and her reactions and interaction with the crowd are never other than extremely respectful. Her evening of comedy isn’t remotely challenging; quite the reverse. It’s warm, fluffy and life-enhancing. Her story of how she tried to get her Women’s Equality Party noticed by illegally projecting an image on to the Houses of Parliament – and the subsequent action by the police – sums up her humour in a nutshell: anything remotely dangerous or difficult will quickly yield to tea and biscuits. Talking of biscuits, who knew how dangerous they are? That’s already one reason to see her show!

You sense there’s a rebel in there, trying to get out; occasional references to being an early lesbian (her words) and her desperate challenges to us not to switch our phones on but instead to strike up an acquaintance with someone new during the interval – and indeed founding a political party – reveal someone who is prepared to go against the grain. But the truth is that the rebel is now totally an Establishment figure, a doyenne of the intellectual airwaves and unquestioning lover of books. If Sandi were a judge, and you were found guilty in her court, she’d be the only one who would literally throw the book at you – possibly Byron – whilst still calling you my darling. Wisely, she doesn’t delve into the world of politics in her humour; in fact, she must be the only comic/entertainer/stand-up we’ve seen for ages who didn’t mentioned the B word.

Instead her material consists of quirky facts, amusing anecdotes, recollections of her father (virtually the only person on Danmarks Radio when it started its TV service) and What do you do with a Signed Rolf Harris album? There’s a hilarious story of an embarrassing lunch at the Savoy with a Well-Known Lady Author of Romantic Fiction (Now Deceased); as well as revealing the ins and outs of the least successful leg amputation ever. Towards the end, there’s a Q&A session – I normally don’t like these, but Sandi made it fun. What language do you dream in? In whichever country’s language she finds herself. Who would you most like to have dinner with? Her children (see what I mean about not really being a rebel?) Which famous person would you like to meet? Famous people are overrated.

If there’s one message from her show, it’s simply to have fun. Being alive is the best gift any of us can have – and once it’s over, it’s over, so enjoy it, goddammit. And be nice to people. Why be anything else? The show ends with us all conducting an imaginary orchestra – a lovely idea, and I wish she’d made more of it! There are only a few dates left on her tour – but if you’re in Brighton, Birmingham, Sheffield, Nottingham or Liverpool you know what to do.